


All My Sins Need Holy Water, Feel It Washing Over Me

by Fangirl1177



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assisted Suicide, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Misogyny, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Misogyny, POV Sam Winchester, Post-Episode: s04e22 Lucifer Rising, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-17 00:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13647339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirl1177/pseuds/Fangirl1177
Summary: Sam has a Plan. He didn't think anybody would disagree with it. Not until the end.Trigger Warning: suicide, assisted suicide, mention of rape, victim blaming, internalised misogynyAlso only Sam and Gabriel are actually there and it ends happier than it sounds. Sorta.





	All My Sins Need Holy Water, Feel It Washing Over Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, thanks for checking out my story I just wanted to that if you don't like the formate please just read left to right and ignore the bold text. Also I know River is about abortion, the lyrics just stayed in my head.
> 
> 6195 Words

**_I've been a liar, been a thief  
_ **

**_Been a lover, been a cheat  
_ **

_**All my sins need holy water, feel it washing over me** **  
** _

**_Oh little one, I don't want to admit to something  
_ **

**_If all it's gonna cause is pain  
_ **

**_Truth in my lies right now are falling like the rain  
_ **

**_So let the river run_ **

 

He drove like the devil was on his tail. Twice the speed limit down country lanes, only just cautious enough to avoid an accident or being pulled over and avoiding sleeping towns where he could. His stolen car only needing to be refuelled once in a small town in West Virginia where he changed out of his blood-stained clothes and posted all his personal belongings, his phone, his ID’s except one, the stolen credit cards and his pre-written but updated apology letter, to Dean at Bobby’s. He kept two hundred dollars in cash and the bag of warding materials he hadn’t used in the convent but otherwise started the process of wiping himself from existence.

He slowed slightly at dawn, started to pay attention to where he was going, until he found a town with a couch and train station. He went to the bus station first, buying a ticket on the next couch because is what Dean would think he would do. Then he abandoned his stolen car in the car park bringing his bag and walked to the train station, taking his time to enjoy the morning and the people rushing around on their way to work not knowing how close they had come to utter destruction.

It made his chest warm with pride and his stomach sick with self-loathing. He didn’t stop for breakfast but pursued the time table before deciding that he would wait half an hour for the train to Seattle while buying a ticket to California.

He felt strangely calm. He’d say he was in shock, but he had nothing to be in shock about. Everything went according to The Plan.

When the train arrived, he walked to the very back then sat by the door and watched the elderly lady at the other end of the carriage until she was unnerved enough to leave. He then picked the lock and almost fell out when the door unexpectedly fell open and he was pushed by air rushing past at a 100 miles an hour. He only just managed to pull the door closed and hold it in place with a few strategically placed strips of duct tape that will do nothing if any pressure is placed on them before they slowed for the next stop and the carriage was filled with commuters.

Then he waits. He people watches. He stared at his watch and counted down how long he had left, minimum, then subtracts another few hours, just to be sure. He waits.

He doesn’t know where they were when he became aware of his surroundings again. He blocked out all noise and didn’t pay attention to the stations. He could probably guess but that would defeat the purpose of getting lost and zoning out in the first place.

They were travelling through a forest. It stretched as far as he could see, and he gave it five minutes before leaning casually back against the window and saw that it stretched out beyond him in a sea of endless trees. He nodded to himself then stood up and pretended to stretch as the few other passengers threw him looks. He smiled at them gently and they went back to what they were doing so he slipped his bag over his shoulders, shook his body and leant against the door.

It takes him a minute to register the fall and by the time he does he’s rolled into the trees and the train is gone, a scream from somebody who watched him with it. He gave himself another minute to catch his breath and assesses for any major injuries but when he found none he pushed himself to his feet and ran into the forest wondering whether to thank his hunter training or the demon blood.

He ran as far as his tired, starving, dehydrated, drugged body would carry him and his supplies before he slowed to a walk and looked for a place to stop. To finally stop.

When he found it his legs gave out. He collapsed in the middle of a clearing and lay there on his back watching the sun on its way back down. He wanted to sleep. To drift off surrounded by a safe forest and warmed by the sun. He consoled himself that he only had to be awake for another few hours.

It still took him another minute to push himself up and empty his bag, another to physically stand and prepare the clearing. As he did so he was glad, yet again, that he was fully expecting to be stabbed in the back at all times over the last year and prepared accordingly so that, even though his self-determined mission is complete, he can still protect himself.

It took him an hour to do the warding; first the usual, salt and devils traps; then the wards he’s painstakingly memorised from books at Bobby’s that protect against anything and everything the hunting world knew about; then finally he laid the few wards he had pried from Anna that warded against angels. His hex bag protected him temporarily, but he knew that it would soon be destroyed, and he didn’t want to be interrupted. After the wards were done he took a moment to admire his handy work, intricate patterns drawn in the dirt, lines of his pre-drawn blood.

The cleansing took another hour. He could have done it in five minutes, but he wanted to be thorough. He cleansed each ring of warding, giving blessings and laying down bundles of dry herbs at each cardinal point. He stripped his clothes, leaving them and his bag outside the clearing in the trees. He poured holy water over himself, knowing that it will be inadequate to destroy the evil in his soul but hopefully will be enough to stop it from destroying the cleansing he had performed, before pulling out a box of matches, another bundle of herbs and the second powerful blade he had made, the first being in Lilith’s ribcage. He lit a single match and burnt the herbs so that he received a facefull of smoke then dropped the match into a ring of holy oil that he had dug around the clearing as a final layer of defence if the cleansing didn’t work.

He stepped over it as fire raced around the clearing and met at the other side. He walked in an inward spiral, chanting over and over again until he finally reached the centre and sat down cross legged in it. He kept chanting for the few minutes it took for the fire to die and the herbs to turn to ashes, not stumbling in his chanting as they singed his hand and he released them into the wind.

He placed the blade facing him on the ground and closed his eyes. His body relaxed, and his mind calmed even as the first symptoms of withdrawal started to kick in faster than normal. He took it as a sign that the cleansing was working and only hesitated a minute longer to stare at the summer sky before his eyes were drawn down to the blade.

It took him longer than it should have to pick the blade up and place its tip to the hollow of his shaking chest with steady hands.

He took a deep breath and blew out slowly as the small part of his brain that was very much human panicked and threw his, pitiful, survival instincts into overdrive.

He could smell the earth and the trees and hear the birds and the woodland animals and feel the firm ground beneath him. He gave a small smile, glad that he was selfish enough to decide to be an inconvenience and do this in nature instead of in a dirty back alley in some no name town.

He breathed in the natural air and crushed his fear of himself one last time.

“Our Father who art in Heaven,” he raised the blade, ensuring that when he plunged it down it would still pierce his chest, “hallowed be thy name, for thine is-”

“Stop.” The voice was quiet. If he had been anywhere else he would have easily ignored it as mishearing but out here, in the forest with nothing around for miles, he jerked and his eyes flew open in surprise. He didn’t jump to his feet, but a lifetime of training had him spinning the blade around to face the voice as his eyes locked onto theirs.

For a minute he could only stare in surprise, speechless, because of all the scenarios he’d played out in his head this hadn’t been one of them; he hadn’t even thought it was possible.

“You.” He said finally. Voice dead.

“Me.” The Trickster agreed, flashing him a grin that didn’t reach his eyes, which reflected the light of the fire he was standing just beyond.

“How did you find me?” He asked because if one person could find him then so could others.

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that.” The Trickster shrugged. “I was in the area, felt the wards go up. I was curious, so I followed. Glad I did.” He relaxed, the tension which had crept unnoticed into his shoulders disappearing even as the opposite occurred to the Trickster.

“Ah.” He nodded. “Here to see the show. Congratulations on your free tickets.” The Trickster blinked at him looking like he’d been slapped.

“No. To stop you you idiot.” It was his turn to blink and tilt his head to the side in confusion.

“Why?”

“Why? Wh - oh you have got to be kidding me? Why wouldn’t I?” The Trickster threw his hands up in frustration and paced as he spoke before stopping and staring unnervingly into his soul. “Why would you?” He waved a hand at the elaborate set up that left him unable to enter. “This isn’t you. It really isn’t you. I’d be worried you were possessed if I didn’t know that nothing could get through all this.” He waved his arms again. “But you’re Sam Winchester. You’re full of fire and passion and you don’t give up and always fight for what you believe in and your place in the world.” The Trickster had the expression of somebody who had lost something dear to him and didn’t understand how.

“I was that person.” He corrected. “I’m not anymore.”

“Oh~kay. And suicide in the middle of nowhere is the way to go?” The Trickster didn’t blink, just frowned. “I’m pretty sure if you ask your brother-.” A bitter laugh escaped him before he could stop it.

“If my brother were here he’d be the one with the knife.”

“You think that… _Dean_ wants to… kill you?” The Trickster rolled the words on his tongue like they didn’t fit.

“No.” He replied calmly, rolling his eyes. “I know so. He’s told me pretty explicitly several times. The only reason he hasn’t already is because when he looks at me he still sees little Sammy who he thinks is a clueless innocent kid who can’t be told anything because otherwise he’ll fall apart.” He snorted. “Of course, he still hasn’t realised that little Sammy died at six months old and that it would be better for everybody if he just kills the evil monster. He keeps thinking it’s recent thing. He’s known of course that I’m evil since he came back from Hell because he’s learnt to recognise evil, but I think he’s still trying to reconcile now and then because if I’m evil now it means I always have been and his deal was for nothing.” He stopped and stared back at the Trickster waiting for him to respond. He turned the knife back around and shifted as his impure blood stared to react to the amount of pure energy around him.

 **_You're so good to me_ ** **  
**

**_I know but I can't change  
_ **

**_Tried to tell you  
_ **

**_But you look at me like maybe  
_ **

**_I'm an angel underneath  
_ **

**_Innocent and sweet_ **

“I don’t think you’re evil. Evil men don’t plan to commit suicide because they’re evil and to save their brother the pain of doing it themselves.” The Tricksters voice was quiet, almost heart broken.

“Good I’m not a man then.” He smiled sardonically.

“You’re not a monster either.”

“You’re the only person who thinks so.” He informed him bluntly. “The only reason nobody else has killed me is because I’m useful.” The Trickster closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“What happened to you?” He asked.

“I realised what I was. I decided to stop holding my brother back. That’s what you wanted isn’t it.” The Tricksters hands clenched.

“No.” He hissed with previously hidden fury. “That’s not what I wanted. What happened to you? Before you never would have taken - you would never have listened to what people said about you and changed for it. You would have done what your moral compass says is best.”

“Before I believed I was a person and so should be treated as such. I guess my dad was the only one who knew from the start and treated me accordingly, I was just too selfish to see it at the time.”

“But your brother-.” The Trickster was grasping at straws.

“My brother is my prison warden. Not originally of course because John didn’t know originally but when he did he was. Except you can’t tell a child that their beloved brother is a monster, so he told him that he was protecting me from the world when really it was the other way around. Then he tried to save me because Dean would want me saved, which is, I’m assuming, the only reason I ever managed to reach Stanford alive, until he couldn’t, and I needed to die.”

“Which you did.” The Trickster nodded to himself. “And now you’re going to let your brothers sacrifice be in vain.” He frowned at the demigod.

“Did you miss the part where I said Deans told me he’s going to kill me? Beside this was always The Plan.” The Trickster ran a hand through his hair and wet his lips.

“The plan? Why don’t you tell me what that is?” He rolled his eyes but obliged.

“It’s changed, obviously, when I made it I didn’t know about the seals, but it only had to be tweaked. The Plan was that I get strong enough to harm high level demons-.”

“By drinking demon blood.” The Trickster interrupted, lips twisted.

“I already had demon blood in me. It gave me powers and made me a freak. The minute I used them I became a monster, adding more would only make me stronger. It’s not like I could get more evil right?”

 

**_You made me a, you made me a believer, believer  
_ **

**_(Pain, pain)  
_ **

**_You break me down, you build me up, believer, believer  
_ **

**_(Pain)  
_ **

**_I let the bullets fly, oh let them rain  
_ **

**_My life, my love, my drive, it came from  
_ **

**_(Pain)  
_ **

**_You made me a, you made me a believer, believer_ **

 

“You think you’re evil because you have powers?” The Trickster held up his hands. “That’s just insulting, am I evil because I have powers?”

“Yes.” He replied simply. “And you’re a freak because you use them and a monster because of how you use them.” He smiled sadly at the Tricksters outraged expression. “I’m sorry, that’s just how it is. At least you don’t have demons in you. That’s the lowest.”

“Okay.” The Tricksters voice was very carefully controlled. “Continue. I’ll try not to interrupt again.” He raised a disbelieving eyebrow but did so.

“Anyway, drinking the blood was useless if I couldn’t use it so I had to learn. We started with things I already knew like exorcisms, except this way the host almost always survived, and I was doing something good for once in my life without having to be ordered or threatened or bribed into doing it. That was when the second part of the plan came in, not that Ruby knew it, but I wondered if maybe I could do something good, actually properly good, and the books would be balanced with my existence.”

“Because you’re so evil.” The Trickster interrupted, obviously not trying very hard.

“I’m part demon. Human-demon hybrids aren’t supposed to exist, look at all the evil the others caused and spread and half of them didn’t know what was going on!” He waved an arm and physically brushed the topic aside. “It doesn’t matter anyway, that was just my ego speaking thinking I could do anything good. I was too late to save Dean the old-fashioned way and no demon was willing to let me swap.” He gave another bitter laugh. “Now I know it’s because they wanted him to break the first seal which I couldn’t do and I’m going to hell when I die anyway so they would actually lose in that deal.” The Trickster twisted his hands and opened his mouth before closing it furiously and gesturing him to carry on.

“What I could do, however, is remove the top dog. They wanted me to be the King of Hell so obviously I had some power and they would control, well, everything. So, I wanted to find Lilith. Part of it was revenge yes, but most of it was that if I could find her I could get her to release not just Deans contract but everybody's and Dean would be alive again. I could then die, my tab cleared, and hopefully they’d focus on me downstairs not up here or I would end up as King anyway. Either way Dean would be safe, I could finally repay him for everything he’s done for me while being brainwashed to ‘ _protect’_ me and the hunters would have one less job to worry about.”

“That’s actually a half decent plan.” The Trickster admitted. “If you had your facts right.”

“If I had my facts right.” He agreed. “Anyway, Dean came back, the angels brought him back but the seals were breaking and so it became even more important that Lilith died. It wouldn’t stop them breaking of course but it would throw Hell into chaos without a leader and honestly a time out was needed. They only had to attack 66 well 65 seals but we had to protect 666, 665, so we were pretty doomed from the start. If Hell was thrown into chaos then preventive measures could be made and we could go onto the attack instead of defence.

“Nobody thought I could do it.” He admitted. “The angels all thought that I couldn’t kill demons because I was part one, but demons fight each other all the time so that’s bullshit. I think they wanted Dean to do it because it would look bad if I did it, but Deans been traumatised, and he was struggling as it was, so I couldn’t place that burden on his shoulders, which they also knew since they told me that the only reason they hadn’t killed me was because I was useful in helping Dean protect the seals. He needed some familiarity and even though I messed with all his evil senses I was familiar.

“Of course, he eventually listened to his instincts and then started saying that I had to stop drinking the blood.” He scoffed.

“Like that would stop making me evil, I was evil because I was born for the exact purpose of being the King of Hell. I was evil because I have had demon blood in me almost my entire life. So, I didn’t stop, and he gave into his instincts and told me he’d kill me if we weren’t brothers. It culminated the other night and he locked me in the panic room then went off to do whatever.” He stopped and rubbed at his chest where the blood was burning.

“How did you get out?” The Trickster asked quietly, staring at him with sad ancient eyes, hands in pockets.

“No idea.” He shrugged. “Withdrawal’s a bitch. I’m not exactly coherent between the hallucinations, agony and my powers being out of control. Of course, that makes me worse because if I could control the powers and not use them then maybe I could be good, but I can’t control them so…” He trailed off with another shrug and gave a grin. “Anyway, I left, called Ruby she helped me out of withdrawal for the last time and we went to where she said Lilith was.”

“And you killed her?” The Trickster tilted his head in confusion doing a good impression of Castiel.

“Similar wards to here.” He waved his hand around him. “And I made another one of these.” He held up the blade. “She should be dead at about eight. And all the contracts are void. I made sure of that. Hopefully this will be enough to, well, you know.”

“Don’t you want to see the results?”

“I don’t deserve it.” The Trickster raised an eyebrow. “I’ve done my job, I’ve done all the good I could ever do, and I’ve done everything I could ever amount to. Staying would be selfish of me because I would be delaying my death and I might become egotistical enough to think that maybe I could be good, be more than a useful tool to push around and be directed to where I’ll do the least harm.”

“What about where you’ll do the most good?” The Trickster asked.

“Where I could do the most good and where I will do the least harm are two very different things, one is a probability that will end up very bad because the chances of me doing anything good are pretty mush zero since everything I do will have a bad result. Somebody will die or be injured, I would slow down everybody else while they were worried about what new horror I could lay upon them.” He smiled. “They’re gonna be mad enough that I killed Lilith even though that’s what we were trying to do. Nothing I do will ever be good enough, I suppose that comes from always being compared to Dean.”

“Dean is not perfect.” The Trickster started to pace along the fire. “He is human.”

“Dean is good. He’s the best hunter. He’s good with people; nobody has to work to like him and everybody does like him. He’s the Righteous Man for God's sake. He’s perfect in every way that matters. He’s human.” He snapped, hands clenching at the insult.

“It’s a genetic title.” The Trickster snapped back.

“Exactly. He’s genetically good and I’m genetically bad which is why I should help him for once in my life and remove myself from it.”

“Is dying really the only way to go about it?”

“Is it better to be tortured on Earth or in Hell?” He countered, “like I said, I’ll give the demons a distraction and they wanted me to be King of Hell. Me being on Earth longer than necessary is a danger.”

“So is being King of Hell.” The Trickster countered. “If you’re so dangerous on Earth how dangerous are you going to be once your humanity is removed?”

“I don’t have any humanity.” He informed him calmly. “I’m a monster.”

“Then what’s this?” The Trickster held out his arms in an all-inclusive gesture. “This is compassion. It’s for a stupid reason but it’s for compassion. You’re not doing this because you’re tired, you’re doing it because you care about the world; your care about the people in it and you care about Dean. If you become a demon that’ll all be removed, and you’ll be Hell’s most terrifying King.”

He glared at the Trickster. Chest heaving and holding the blade tight enough that the bones in his hand creaked.

“It’s not like there’s another option.” He tried to keep the tiredness out of his voice; the hopelessness; the desolation, by the way the Trickster fixed him with a burning gaze he failed. “I know I was always a monster.” The words spilled out under the Tricksters gaze, broken and desperate because he had to explain himself to one person and this person had already seen him at his two weakest points and listened to why he had to do everything he’s done in the past year, what’s a few more sins to explain away?

“I always knew I was a monster. There was something wrong with me, I wasn’t like the other kids, they knew how to make friends and talk to people and balance their lives. I wasn’t like Dean who could also do that but also help me as much as he could. First when he always looked after me and John even when John was off on his three-week long cases and didn’t leave enough money for a week and Dean had to balance hunting and school and me even before I went to school and became selfish enough to prioritise it over my family.

“I always thought I could do both. Do school and family and hunting where I wasn’t under threat of being murdered by both sides. I thought I could have friends and a girl and I thought it’d be Jess but she died because I was happy and thought I could replace my family and I didn’t want to replace them I just wanted more. It’s selfish and careless of me because hunters can’t have friends and relationships, and soldiers can’t do their job if they have relationships, but I needed something other than Dean and a man who hates me, and would always try to help me be as perfect as Dean even though we both knew I could never be because I had something in me that made me incapable of being human and good and had already killed mom and made Dean a worse hunter and was a burden only useful when I was doing research or being bait.”

**_Our consciences are always so much heavier than our egos  
_**

**_I set my expectations high  
_ **

**_So nothing ever comes out right_ **

“I never wanted Ruby to replace Dean, I wanted an actual relationship but I was desperate and she was there and being a man not a bitch wasn’t working and I didn’t want the blood at first but she put it in my drink and then I had to give into her because she was always there and the blood needed a release and I couldn’t just grab a woman off the street but -”

“She raped you.” The Trickster sounded horrified and he was answering before he’d registered what the Trickster had said, giving the party line and rushing on with his explanation before he lost the nerve even when he stared repeating himself.

“Men can’t get raped." The Trickster raised a disbeliving eyebrow. "I mean they can but hunters shouldn't and people who can fight shouldn't and it doesn't matter. I'm not a man and my body isn’t my own anyway, it’s just another tool, and I deserved it because I wanted it afterwards and I couldn’t not have it and it hurt when I didn’t which shows how evil that I am that I needed demon blood to survive and a demon to not be alone and that’s what made detox hurt so much because I was alone and tied down and out of control and I hate my powers because I can’t control them which makes me worse and I needed to be something more than a useful tool.

“I wanted to be a person for so long and I always fought for it and Jess made me feel like a person and I wanted a relationship like with her, but I can’t because then I’d be happy, and more people would die because I’m not allowed to be happy or have relationships because I’m not a person.”

“But only Jess died.” The Trickster insisted.

“Most women I sleep with die, especially if I know their name and Dean’s under Heaven’s protection but they couldn’t stop him going to hell because I was weak and unmanly and the demon blood made me strong and manly and I was always going to die before there was any long term effects and I was already bad and I could be helpful. The visions were helpful and I thought Dean was okay with them, so what was a little more?

“I was always going to go to hell and break the last of me and be terrible and alone and I’m so scared because I never wanted that! I wanted to be good! I didn’t want to be perfect! I just wanted to be a person and be good and useful and I can’t even do that.Everybody knows that because I was only good this last year in supporting Dean. But I couldn’t do that because I was selfish and prioritised my hurt and plans above him and he’s going to kill me if I don’t and if he doesn’t the angels will because they told me that they would the moment I stopped being useful, because I’m an abomination who deserves nothing and is evil and selfish and deserves to go to hell and stop tainting the Earth.” He stopped talking, breath catching in his throat and face wet and open. The Trickster was staring at him like he’d never seen him before, like he was looking at him in a new light and he’d started something profound and earth shattering, looking just as vulnerable as he felt.

“Oh Sam.” The Trickster whispered. “You don’t have to go to hell.”

**_You see this blood on my hands at least there's no reaching to Heaven.  
_ **

**_I got to pick up the pieces,  
_ **

**_I got to bury them deep  
_ **

**_And when you look into my eyes  
_ **

**_I'll be the last thing you see_ **

“Where else could I go?” He responded.

“I… You could go to my daughter, Hel, the Norse goddess not hell the Abrahamic one. She controls Helheim the realm of those who didn’t die in battle and she’s really good with souls. Like really good. She’ll be able to heal your soul or punish it or whatever and there’s no threat of being a demon or the King of Hell and she can give you redemption. She has this system and it’s actually really cool, but it’s got levels for how good you are so the better person you are the higher you go and in the last thousand years something like, seventy percent of her souls have managed to redeem themselves enough to get to her average continuation of life level and ten to her land of awesomeness. I don’t think there’s anybody left in her lowest level actually because she’s that good at her job.”

“I don’t think I can be saved.” He swallowed to wet his dry throat. “Or if I can it’ll take a very long time.”

“She’s also goddess of time.” He gave a soft laugh and looked up at the sky.

“I don’t-” He started.

“If you’re worried about not getting deserving punishment don’t be. She has my skills at judging people.” The Trickster interrupted quickly, and he closed his eyes. They stayed like that for a while and eventually he lowered his head, dropped the blade and opened his eyes to stare at Loki, because he said Hel was his daughter and she was the daughter of the Trickster God Loki, and gave him his trust.

“How?” The god slumped, tension draining out of his shoulders.

“Well there’s several ways, since you're so gung-ho about dying tonight before seeing if Lilith's dead and after hte most contrived game of cat and mouse I have ever seen. You could convert to paganism, you could swear allegiance to me, you could bribe a reaper, or you could kill yourself and I could steal your soul before a reaper gets here or we could skip the reaper and I kill you and give you a... nudge to Helheim or just straight up carry you. Me killing you would be easiest but you’d need to clear a path through all this.” Loki waved his hand at the protection on the floor. “Just, I don’t know, brush a path of dirt from the centre so the sigils are covered up and dump it in the oil so there’s a bridge and all of the protections are broken. Don’t worry I can hide us so that by the time anybody knows what’s happened we’ll be long gone.” He continued to stare at Loki before sighing and shifting to his knees and brushing a path of dirt along to the holy oil like Loki had suggested. When it was clear the god stepped into his protective circle and he sat back down in the centre.

“You can’t fight me.” Loki explained as he stood in front of him. “If you do you die a warrior's death and are barred from Helheim.” He nodded and stared imploringly up. “Close your eyes, please.” Loki added and after a moment he did.

He breathed in the scent of the air and the sound of the birds and the warmth of the sun on his skin. Then there was pain in his chest, right where he was going to stab himself, and his blood boiled, and skin blistered and then he was a spirit, gasping for breath he didn’t need. Loki grinned at him and he stared at the god as he vanished a silver sword that looked similar to an angel blade and crouched down in front of him.

“Burial or cremation?” The god asked reaching out and tapping his corpse arm and he resisted the urge to stare at his body lying prone on the ground, a gaping hole in his chest.

“I should be cremated.” He replied. “To clean my body again.”

“But you want to be buried?” Loki guessed and after a moment he nodded. “I can cleanse the body, that’s easy, it’s a machine it’s the soul that’s difficult. Any particular burial site wanted?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I had no thoughts other than it’d be nice to donate my organs and be buried and help somebody after my death.” Loki’s face softened.

“Something nice and simple somewhere that needs donors?”

“Please.” He begged, and the god nodded then tapped the body and it vanished.

“Now for you Samuel Winchester.” He held out his hand and hesitantly he grabbed it and allowed himself to be led out of the clearing and into the trees. Loki snapped, and he couldn’t help the reflexive flinch before realising that nothing had happened.

“I thought you might appreciate the lengths you’ve gone to to be known.” He turned around and saw that the protections were back to how they had been and his body back in the centre, lying like he had been but with hands holding his own blade.

“It’s an illusion, the police will find it tomorrow and burn it the day after, or think they did. The protections will hold until somebody breaks them and since the police won’t and the body isn’t you nobody will know until somebody comes to investigate this in about a week.”

“Thank you.” Loki beamed at the compliment.

“You’re welcome. Now let’s get you to your afterlife, shall we?” He held out his hand again. This time he didn’t hesitate to hold it and the effect of instantaneous. He was surrounded by light and warmth and his soul cradled as Loki travelled from the Earth to through a freezing wasteland and into the cosy warmth of Helheim.

Then he let him go.

**_We are just like the waves that flow back and forth  
_ **

**_Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning and you're there to save me  
_ **

**_And I wanna thank you with all of my heart  
_ **

**_It's a brand new start  
_ **

**_A dream come true_ **

 

1 - River, 2017, Sung by Eminem and Ed Sheeran, Written by Marshall Mathers, Edward Christopher Sheeran and Emile Haynie.

2 - Bitch, 1997, Sung by Meredith Anne Brooks and Shelly M Peiken, Written by Meredith Anne Brooks and Shelly M Peiken.

3 - Believer, 2017, Sung by Imagine dragons, Written by Joshua Mosser, Alexander Grant, Daniel Reynolds, Daniel Sermon, Benjamin Mckee.

4 - Turn Off the Lights, 2011, Sung by Panic At The Disco!, Written by John Feldmann, Spencer Smith, Brendon Urie.

5 - I Don’t Wanna Die, 2011, Sung by Hollywood Undead, Written by Jordon Kristopher Terrell, Griffin Boice, Matthew Busek, Dylan Alvarez, Jorel Decker, George Ragan, Daniel Murillo.

6 - Malibu, 2017, Sung by Miley Cyrus, Written by Miley Cyrus, Oren Yoel.

Characters belong to Supernatural TV show writers. If you're reading this I think you already know that.

**Author's Note:**

> So this has in fact been edited since I posted it, it wasn't edited before due to myself and my laptop being seperated by several international borders (and 25 odd miles of water) incuding these wonderful notes you see.
> 
> So I've had a few comments about Sam and misogyny and sexism and I've tried to fix that. Just encase I haven't and you're still confused here's my standard explaination and please tell me - or better yet give me an alternative because I've obviously failed and I don't want to offend anybody (anymore than I already have).
> 
> Sam would totally be supportive and understandable and leave rape apologists in the dust with his awesome lawyer skills but he also has self esteem in the minus numbers and blames himself for everything. He also grew up with John and Dean who are incredibly macho and the casual misogyny between them is pretty much every other minute. 
> 
> What I was trying to say and obviously didn't get across was that most likely he would have grown up hearing the whole 'men can't get raped' spiel and so would revert to it. The first thing you think is what you are conditioned by society to say, the second is what you really think and when not thinking you say the first. 
> 
> There is also the fact that nobody ever addresses when Sam is violated in the show and his frankly impressive guilt complex means that he would blame himself for it. What I meant him to say here isn't 'men can't get raped' and 'people who are raped deserve it' its 'I did something bad and deserved it because of the bad thing I did and because I didn't fight back ' even though he either totally did or couldn't. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this. I'm hoping to write a second chapter from Gabriel's POV and including Hel (because come on? A half archangel half pagan goddess of death and the afterlife, where is she in the show?) but I don't know when, until then you can decide what Gabriel's motivations are. I also hope that whoever came up with the spelling of the word misogyny is rotting in the 22nd circle of hell with whoever created the spelling of the word dyslexia but I have low expectations.


End file.
